At the Edge of Another
by thelinksthatconnectus
Summary: Five times Cremia knew that she loved Anju, and the one time that she knew Anju loved her back. Cremia/Anju


I.

The smell of sweet candy and baking goods hung in the carnival air. Carts full of delicious, once a year, treats were everywhere, a smiling salesperson always behind them. From the corner of her eye, Cremia saw Kafei and Anju both lick their lips.

"Are you hungry?" Kafei asked. His red eyes gleamed. "My mother made me eat before coming here, but now I feel like eating everything!"

Anju chuckled. "My mother did as well."

Cremia's own stomach rumbled; the journey here and from the farm with her father had been a rather long one. He had business to do, so he had given her a good amount of coins and, with a smile, told her to enjoy herself.

"It is but once a year, darling." He chuckled, digging through his pockets. "And I must say, it's a great time to do business as well."

"Well," Anju said, looking around the carnival grounds, "what should we eat?"

Kafei shrugged.

"We could always have a little bit of everything." Cremia looked over to some nearby vendors. She could not even pronounce the name of the food on their signs, but her mouth watered none the less, and she could not deny that it smelled wonderful. The food that she ate at the farm was rather bland compared to this (though she would not deny that her mother made some wonderful treats as well). Still, she was used to eating it. This food? This food she would probably never see at the farm, no matter how many times she might ask her parents for it.

"Let's walk around," Cremia said, scooting closer to Anju. "We can stop and look at stalls, and if we don't like them then we can just keep walking."

Both Anju and Kafei nodded.

"Hey, Cremia," Anju spoke as they passed a stand selling the most delicious soup that Cremia had ever smelled.

"Yes?"

"Next year, will you bring your new little sibling to the carnival?"

Cremia shook her head. "They would be too young; besides, my mother will probably be working with my dad next year, and she'll want to bring her baby with her. The Milk Bar patrons will all make comments about the new baby, and all want to hold the little one."

Anju nodded. "I see."

"My mother stayed home tonight. She is getting really close to having the new baby. Right now she's probably knitting away a new blanket."

"Awww," Anju said.

Cremia nodded. "I know."

"Are you excited to be a big sister?"

"Of course!"

"Hey!" Kafei yelled, breaking their conversation. "Let's go over there!"

Cremia squinted - whatever he was pointing at, it was far, far away.

"That's a game!" Anju spoke. "I thought that we were getting food."

Kafei chuckled. "We're already hungry, so why not just make ourselves a little hungrier? Besides, it'll be fun. We can win lots of prizes."

Anju turned to Cremia, a smile spread across her pale face. "You could win something for your new sibling."

Cremia nodded. "And maybe something for my mother, too."

II.

Romani was the lucky one, it seemed. She did not know what was happening, too busy focusing on the toys scattered around her. Maybe that was for the better.

Cremia, however, did not have anything else to focus on. Her father had the same luck, and his blue eyes could only stare at the body of his wife.

I should say something, she thought. Her mouth, however, was completely dry, as were her eyes. All she could do was stare at the bed where her mother lay, struggling to breathe. For the past few weeks it had been like this, but only now had it gotten horrifically bad. Cremia's mother could hardly eat, and could not get out of bed most days.

Cremia put hand in the other and played with her fingers, though she never looked down at them. Her eyes were glued to the bed, where her mother still lay (her face was the only part visible, the rest hidden under piles and piles of blankets that seemed to be ever growing), every breath loud.

But that's a good thing, isn't it? Cremia thought. As long as we can hear her breathing then we know that she's alive.

Eventually, there was silence. The dam around Cremia's eyes broke, and tears ran down her cheeks and onto her dress. This time, her mother could not wipe them away.

When the funeral came around, Cremia, her father, Romani, and Anju all stood around the small urn that contained her mother's dust. They looked down to it with different levels of emotion. Her father looked ready to fall down and cry; the dark bags under his eyes at least were able to block her from seeing most of his tears.

Papa can cry, she thought.

It was like seeing a Zora in a desert. For a moment, she had to wonder if maybe she was dreaming.

She knew she wasn't, however, when Anju wrapped her arms around Cremia's waist and held her close. Cremia released her tears into Anju's chest, the fabric of Anju's dark dress muffling the words that left Cremia's mouth. After a long while, Cremia stopped crying. The two stood there, Cremia's face to Anju's shirt, and stood in silence. It was as if time froze, and they could only do that for eternity.

Perhaps that would not have been so bad.

III.

"Romani!" Cremia yelled.

"What, sister?" Romani raised an eyebrow.

"Watch where you're aiming your bow!" Cremia looked over to the cows. Thankfully, none had been hurt, and they looked just as calm as ever. They ate their grass in silence, hardly moving a muscle except to lean down and get more. "You could hurt someone or something!"

Romani's frown deepened. "But sister, Romani does aim carefully!"

"Romani-"

Anju stepped forward, moving away from the cuccoos that she had been observing. "Cremia, I saw the shot just like you did. It was near the cows, but it wasn't close." She wiped feathers off of her dress. "There's no need to fret."

Cremia bit her lip. "Well, I was just reminding her." She looked back to her sister. "I just don't want you to cause any damage around here." Cremia sighed. There were enough problems around the place already; she and her father wouldn't be able to deal with anything else, especially not something Romani herself caused.

"She'll be fine." Anju smiled, and then ran a hand through her dark red hair. "Besides, it's better to know how to use than not. At least if she's in trouble, she'll have a way to protect herself."

Cremia nodded. She herself knew her own way with knives, having been taught by both her mother and father. It was her father, however, who had taught her the most. There were a few knives strapped under her dress like always; no one could see them, but Cremia would always have them if the need were to arise.

Anju walked over to Romani, and then got down on her knees, looking the younger girl straight in the eyes.

Romani stared up at her with wide blue eyes, her lips turned in what looked like half of a smile and half of a frown. "Yes, Miss Anju?"

"Would you like help aiming that?"

Romani grinned. "Yes!"

Anju smiled, and then reached for the bow. "You should it a bit steadier, just to keep yourself and others around you safe. Preventing accidents is always the key."

Anju continued to speak, moving Romani's hands around and helping her get a better idea of the weapon in her hands (along with the power that it held). She mentioned a few terms that Cremia did not recognize; eventually, Anju even picked up the bow herself and fired a shot at a tree a short distance away.

"Now do you understand?" Anju asked.

Romani nodded. "Yes, yes Romani does!"

"That's good," Anju responded, patting the girl on her back. "Now why don't you practice a bit more for me, Romani?"

Romani gave a firm nod. "Romani will!" Her fists tightened around her bow.

"That would be wonderful!" Anju looked over to Cremia for a moment, and then back to her sister. "Keep that up and you'll be a master archer in no time at all."

"Really?" Romani's eyes widened further, and her jaw dropped.

"Really."

Anju walked back over to Cremia, while Romani continued to practice. Sometimes she would go and pick up a few of the arrows that missed her targets. She usually had dig around in the grass to find it, and bits of mud and dirt covered her arms and the front and skirt of her dress.

"Thank you," Cremia said. "That really helped her."

"It was nothing." Anju smiled, and then looked back to the cuccoos.

"No, truly this was good for her." Cremia smiled. "I cannot thank you enough, Anju."

"There is no need for thanks." Anju's smile vanished. "Cremia, how come you never learned to use a bow? I would figure that you would at least know the basics, but Romani told me that you don't know anything about it."

Cremia turned away from her. "I just don't know how to use it."

"Why not?"

"Because. . ." Cremia closed her eyes. She could hear her mother's voice in her head, and could see her holding her own bow. Back then, Romani had been much too small to hold one, but she had still looked at it with wide eyes.

"Because what?"

"Because I always declined my mother's offer to learn how to shoot."

"Oh." Anju walked forward, and gently placed a hand on Cremia's shoulder. "I understand, and I apologize if I accidentally offended you."

Cremia sighed. "Oh no, you didn't; I just looked back into the past." She closed her eyes once more. "Don't be hard on yourself."

"Still, if you would ever like to learn how to shoot, I can always show you. I would be happy to, and it's an important skill."

"I'll see." Cremia sighed a second time.

IV.

Just when her last wounds had been healed, another blow was struck. Her father, the hard working man that he was, finally fell apart. Perhaps she should have known, at least had some sort of clue - but if there had been one, she never saw it.

Romani sat alone, quiet and unmoving. She no longer cared for her bow, and hardly touched it. Most days, Cremia had to coax her to eat her meals and drink her milk. Her once bright and lively sister had turned grim.

This time, she was old enough to know what was going on.

And though her father did not go on, life on the farm did. Morning would come, and Cremia would awaken. Stepping silently past her sister, she would make her way downstairs and then out the door. The barn would await her, the cows ready to milk and the cuccoos laying their eggs. Her work would turn into breakfast, and again she would work. The cows might need more food, or a horse might need to be given more water. The cuccoos would wonder about, and Cremia would sometimes have to go run after them.

All the while, Romani sat quietly by the house, staring off into the distance.

"How long has it been since she's worked?" Anju asked. She was red in the face and panting, yet she still stuck beside Cremia. Her dress was dirty and her dark red hair a mess, but she still stood tall.

"Two months," Cremia said.

"That is a while."

"It is not as long as she has known our father." Cremia looked across the farm. This had always been her father's ranch, and he had loved it. Whenever he looked out onto it, his eyes would widen and he would give a genuine smile.

He loved it so much, Cremia thought, that he named his little girl after it.

"Do you think that I should go talk to her?" Anju asked.

"No, you don't need to. You've already done more than enough by coming over and helping me. Really, this must be a strain on you."

"Oh no," Anju responded. "I'll be fine, Cremia." She frowned. "Besides, I know what it is like to lose a father."

A lump formed in Cremia's throat. She motioned for Anju to go.

Anju placed her bucket down and then walked towards Romani. Cremia walked over and picked up the bucket, hardly noticing her reflection in the water at all.

I can't believe that I forgot about that. Cremia thought. Of course she would be able to understand. Why did I never bring that up to her?

By the end of the day, Romani was shooting again.

V.

"My mother went upstairs." Anju sighed, looking down at her empty plate; Cremia didn't feel a need to do the dishes any longer.

Those could be done some other time (if there was another time).

"Thank you again for letting us stay with you."

"You are always welcome here. Why would you not feel welcome?"

"You know how my mother feels about you." Anju rolled her eyes. "Not that I care."

Cremia expected something other than silence. Maybe Anju would have brought up Kafei, or asked about the little boy in green that Romani had befriended, mentioned what was going on at The Stock Pot Inn, or even asked about how life was on the farm. Instead, there was silence, and Cremia could do nothing to fill it.

For once, Cremia did not look to Anju (who even crying and afraid looked beautiful), but to her window. It was impossible to not see the moon.

VI.

"I thought that you had stayed back in Clock Town!" Cremia stepped away from the door; was she seeing a ghost? Or could she be dreaming?

"I came," was Anju's only reply.

"But why?" Cremia was sure that she could hear her little sister giggling.

"I came to see you." She did not falter in the slightest, nor did she ever look away from Cremia.

"But what about-"

"That doesn't matter." Anju turned and looked out into the distance. The moon was even closer than before. "My mother and grandmother have come as well. Don't worry, they should be going to bed soon." She put her hands around Cremia's own, and then quickly leaned forward, brushing her lips softly against her own.

While Cremia helped Anju's family inside, she replayed the events through her mind. Had it really happened, or was it another dream?

Her questions were answered, however, when all the others went to sleep. Romani had gotten her taste of Chateau Romani, and a mask of her own. Both of the adult women had seemed pleased with their dinner.

Anju had yet to go to sleep.

Cremia could no longer see the point in sleeping.

"Did I offend you earlier?" Anju asked.

"Huh?"

"When I kissed you?"

It really happened, Cremia thought. It really did.

"No. No, it never would." She closed her eyes. "I was so sad when I found out that you were engaged to Kafei."

"He never came back." She looked ready to cry. "But you were always there for me... I wish that I hadn't been so afraid of admitting my feelings for you; I should have been courageous and strong, like - like you." The tears fell, and she began to sob.

Cremia ran forward and pulled her into a hug.

"I had wanted to do that for so long." Anju wiped at her eyes, but new tears came.

"Me too."

Cremia looked out the window; the moon was so close, almost covering all of what she could see out of her window.

If there was still time to be together, then it was running out quickly.

"It was better to know now," Cremia said, kissing her forehead, "then never."

Anju's sobs continued.


End file.
